formerly UNTITLED Je vous fais toutes mes excuses
by Rina2
Summary: Please tell me what you think of the beginning, and whether you want to see an end.
1. Chapter One

By Rina

Erik could not understand why he wasn't dead by now. He did not care one way or the other whether his mortality was being used to his advantage at the moment. He just thought that reasonably, even if the sparse food he'd salvaged from his cupboards- after the mob had, adopting the Last Supper metaphor of Christianity even in their heathenish fury by ravaging his bread and wine as if it were his flesh and blood- had not killed him by its lack of variety, should have done the job with the abundance of variety that the fungi growing on it had. He did not know whether he should rightfully be eating breakfast, lunch, or dinner even if he had the supplies to do so, because he never knew what time of day it was. The concept of time had become a novel experience for him. He well knew the excruciating crawl of time, but he had not known he could feel this even as the same time made his mind reel with its celerity. It was as though he couldn't decide which way the sand in an hour glass was going.

            He sighed. Waiting for his death to start was as mundane as waiting for his life to start.

~

            Raoul felt this way too. But he knew why: he regretted every moment the monster might still be biding his time, making it seem to him as though every slow moment were enough for one such as ~he~ to be committing a thousand crimes. And the time in which he, Raoul, could be preventing them seemed to slip away as swiftly. The time when he could be ensuring Christine de Chagny's (and his) absolute peace of mind, for if he was killed none of these crimes would be directed against her.

            He did not doubt that it was only a matter of time, nor did he doubt putting the poor beast out of his misery would be a matter of charity. Had he not proclaimed himself ready to die? He had been ready to die ~for~ Christine,  surely now he was even more so ~without~ her. His spectacular sacrifice had been on impulse of what better part there was of him. Now that he was suffering the aftermath of that moment's passion and indecision, Raoul knew that either his insanity or his inimical nature would incite him to take action to undo what he'd done so spontaneously. However, he knew that act was Christine's only decent memory of their "relationship," and who was he to taint something already so blackened by telling her that very memory was his motive for ending the beast's life? She was still recuperating from her volley of close encounters with the Phantom, poor love. 

            It was only a matter of time…


	2. Chapter Two

I need some constructive criticism; this is my first non-sarcastic fanfiction. Like most of the heartiest Raoul/Christine-bashers you'll soon discover I'm a saturated sap at heart. So if I'm overdoing that aspect or anything else, I need to know. 

**$Disclaimer$**

The money signs are not a coincidence: they mean I'm not going to get sued! Yay! Phantom of the Opera and all affiliated trademarks are not mine. Haha there's a "loophole" aka the Punjab loophole. Uh… not really. If you find one let me know. Then I can let Erik out of my closet and give him roaming privileges; he's tired of me hiding him from ALW.

Christine was suspicious of Raoul. For some time now, she had been trying to discern why Raoul had been, in a frustratingly vague way, reminding her of Erik. She thought, she decided, he was up to something. He stalked her endlessly, when he wasn't on mysterious excursions that started and ended with measuring glances at her. When she inquired about them, his reply was as reassuring as he could make it, but never so reassuring as to compromise their elusive, short nature, like an aphorism. She feared one day she would give him something to be concerned about during one of his penetrating gazes, if it was nothing else but ~her~ concern for ~him~ that distorted her face.

            One day she had to ask him about it. Making sure she caught his attention, a task that was becoming ever more esoteric, by waiting until they were together at the breakfast table one morning, she asked, "Raoul, should I be worried about your absences?" He smiled blandly. "What do you mean, Christine? I don't understand."

            "Raoul…" She wondered if she dared put herself or him through such a question.

            "I'm listening, Christine."

            Christine inhaled deeply, feeling her lungs and heart fill with all the dreams of marital felicity she felt were exuded through the very air that Raoul breathed. She wondered if when she next exhaled they would all rush out in that one gulp, leaving her heart collapsed and airlessly withered. "Are you seeing another woman?"

            Raoul abruptly gaped at her. "Christine! How can you ask that? I never even look at other women than you!"

            Christine went limp with relief. "Raoul, I was so frightened- thank God. I wouldn't have been able to bear it." Her downcast eyes caught the muted flurry of Raoul's reflection in the polished mahagony of the breakfast table as he rushed to her side. Kissing the top of her head, he put his arms around her. Christine leaned back gratefully. "How could you ever think that?" Before she could reply, he told her, "You need never worry about that, you know that. And soon, you won't have to worry about anything at all, once I take care of that Phantom fellow."

            Suddenly feeling lively, Christine writhed about to face him. "Raoul! Whatever do you mean!?" 

            Raoul let the truth come out as it was scared out of hiding by his wife's reaction. "Why, Christine, I've been arranging to put him out of his misery and any misery he might have the strength left to cause in still others. If not you again." His arms tightened. 

            "Raoul, please don't do anything of the kind! I should not think you'd have forgotten the night he proved he's no harm, especially since you still have the marks on your neck to remind you," she snapped. Realizing the irony and harshness of her words, she added softly, "I mean, of course, you also still have me, which is the point."

            "Yes, dear Christine," he murmured, "I know that very well."

            She stopped his lips by asking, "So you'll let this go?"

            Raoul's mouth tightened against hers, and he stood abruptly. "Christine, don't you want to be safe?"

            "I am safe," said Christine. Sighing, she added, "I wonder if he is too."

            Raoul started incredulously. "I pity him too, but really, if he ~is~ healthy you know he'll only use his strength against others! What a thing to wish!" Seeing her face, he sighed, saying, "Don't worry, Christine. Let's not discuss it anymore. I'll be in the study if you want me."

            Christine nodded numbly. She had some investigating of her own to do.


	3. Chapter Three

By Rina

~Thanks for the criticism and reviews. Sorry this is short. Things will get moving…sooner than you think… faster than a speeding- uh- chandelier…

Raoul tried to think once he was in the study. It was a strategic environment to let his mind wander in, because this room, or more specifically a certain inconspicuously placed book in an even more concealing drawer, contained most of his "sources" on the Phantom. He also had to meditate on the unexpected obstacle of Christine.

She, of all people! Raoul was in shock. He could conceive her empathy for the creature, but that by no means should override her sympathy for the potential situation of others it might wreak death and destruction on. But Raoul himself did not feel as much cause to fear for others as he did for Christine. Well, if Christine was oblivious to the danger, as she obviously was, that meant he was even more obligated to protect her from the still-present threat of the Phantom. He wasn't afraid, and he didn't have reason to be. Raoul knew he should act quickly, however. The newspaper clippings documenting the infamous disaster at the Opera, and the extensive floor plans of the Opera he had exerted his influence to obtain were not comparable to the value of his memory of the night spent in the Phantom's lair, something far less durable than any paper.

Raoul resolved to act within the week. In the meantime, he would erase the morning's incident from Christine's mind as soon as possible. 


	4. Chapter Four

Thanks for the constructive criticism, it _is_ helping and I'll try to heed the advice. J

By Rina

            Erik raised his head from the floor. He opened his eyes, too, which didn't make much difference in the thorough darkness. He winced; moving any part of his body was becoming increasingly bothersome. He'd escaped effectively from the clumsy mob, but though it had only been a couple of months since he'd given up any pretense of living, he could practically feel his muscles beginning to atrophy.

            The heartache was absolutely excruciating. Of course he hadn't expected it to be anything less but now that she was gone… really gone…

            For the next portion of the forevers his life had become, he sobbed. He had wondered if he could live without her; now it seemed that the worst option was the case: he could. But he felt that every moment his love, and directly related, his pain, was greater than the last instant and less than the instant to come. Though her presence was not there, it seemed the memory of her was just as potent, squeezing the life substance out of his heart. He hoped she'd had better luck forgetting about what he had caused her, with the help of that boy.

            A sound distracted him. The rats had been scared away by the mob's commotion, but it seemed they were beginning to venture back out now. Erik duly and dully noted the irony: he had taken care of terrorizing the ballet rats, and the mob had effectively done that to the rats of the cellars. 

            The rat seemed to be scuttling- no, more like scraping- closer. He hoped he wouldn't have to fend off aggressive rats trying to gnaw on him, as well as what was gnawing at his heart.

            Suddenly, as his fatigued eyes were adjusting better to the darkness, he discerned a distinctly human shape not twenty feet away from him…

Sorry, I know this is the worst kind of cliffhanger, but I promise I won't keep you waiting long!


	5. Chapter Five

_Je Vous Faites Toutes Mes Excuses_ (I make to you all my apologies)

            He started. He felt himself struggling to match the shape to that of Christine, craving so badly for it to be her, but he knew as soon as he looked it was not her. But through his disappointment, he recognized the fop, whose form he had memorized as thoroughly as Christine's, because he hated him as much as he loved her.

            As stealthily as he could he adjusted his position so as to take advantage of the concealing shadows. He couldn't believe he'd been caught off his guard by that incompetent fop! The boy was still trying to be furtive. Two could play that game. Erik was glad of his practically inherent tendency to conceal himself, and that consequently the place he'd been rotting in for the past couple of months was between a thick stone pillar and a kind of stone partition that allowed him to see the maximum of his surroundings around its corner. It seemed he was safe. The boy was searching in all the wrong places. Erik found it particularly amusing to see him glancing up at the ceiling every other step, as though expecting Erik to be clinging there like a giant biding bat. Erik could see that he had a gun, and he also saw that given the circumstances he didn't have much chance if he were found. Erik waited silently as he approached. He wondered dully if Christine had put him up to it. That would confirm that she hadn't forgotten about him, at least. He tensed as he saw the boy, not five feet away from him now, bump into a nearby stone pillar. Immediately, a series of displaced pebbles showered down around Raoul. Erik saw the boy scuttling around in a flurry of nervous double-takes, trying to identify his alleged attacker, saw him fling out his arm- A shot was fired into the darkness, and went into Erik just as suddenly.

            He groaned with the first blood. He was concerned that he had given himself away, but he was drowned out by Christine.

            "_Raoul! STOP!"_ she screamed, hurtling through the darkness to wrench the gun from Raoul's grasp. "Christine!" Erik heard him splutter. "How- what-!?" "Where is he?" she asked him, ignoring his incoherent demands.

            Erik snorted. Was this a farce? He wasn't going to make himself a fool of himself because of her again.

            "I… I don't know. I'm not even sure I hit him. I fired because I thought he attacked me, Christine! But that's not the point! You're putting yourself at great risk to be down here! Go back now- I'll be fine!"

            "I am not going to let you kill an innocent man because you can't see with your own eyes," she cried. "Raoul, you're wrong to be hunting him down like this."

            Raoul sighed heavily. Finally, he looked at Christine and said quietly, "Alright. If that's how you really feel, let's just leave. We can forget about the whole thing."

            Christine looked tempted, but she shook her head. "If you shot him, I'm not going to leave him here to bleed to death." "He can surrender and get help," Raoul insisted. 

            Looking exasperated, she said, "Raoul, you know he'd never do that! Would you please be reasonable?"

            Even from his point of view, Erik could see a change in Raoul's expression. "Oh, right," he said in a deceptively placid tone. "You have feelings for the creature. I should have known." Erik's heart cringed and his blood boiled. He didn't think he could stand this elaborate charade much longer. But though his voice shook with emotion, Raoul continued. "I can't believe this, after all I did to try to protect you from him. I only hope he is shot- so when you come to your senses, it won't be too late. Goodbye, Christine- I won't be husband to a harlot." Raoul turned and paced ponderously away. 

            Apparently this was an impromptu development in the act, for Christine looked genuinely shocked. She trembled as she begged, "Raoul, wait…" Turning one last time, Raoul said, "No. Stay with your creature- maybe you deserve him." Christine recognized the tone of finality in his voice, and she was silent as she watched him walk resolutely back up to the aboveground world. 

            Looking crestfallen and pale, she seemed to hover without a tangible earthly tether over the bare expanse of stone floor for a minute. Then, Erik saw her raise her head- or was it that she had jutted her chin forward? She squared her shoulders to accommodate their new burden and began to call Erik's name.

I hope this ending point isn't too awkward, more soon!! J


	6. Chapter Six

_Je Vous Fais Toutes Mes Excuses_

            Now Erik did not know what to do. He didn't _need_ her help; the bullet had only grazed his lower arm. He just needed her- it was all he could do to remain apathetically silent. She seemed to know him better than Raoul, searching in corners and behind the stone pillars she felt out (or bumped into) in the darkness. He sighed in helpless indecision. She was only getting better as she got closer: she was going to find him.

            "I'm over here, Christine," he called warily. Christine halted in midgrope, cocking her head to determine the source of his voice.

            He heaved himself up, holding his arm gingerly. He wanted to minimize his vulnerability as much as he could under the circumstances.

            Emerging into her view, he said abruptly, "Here I am, Christine." Though trying to seem coldly stoic, he couldn't help staring. Was she really there? Was she really as ethereal as he remembered her to be? 

            "Oh my God, are you alright? Did he… hit you?" She visually examined him as closely as she could in the darkness. "Your arm- you're bleeding…" She looked distraught. He could see that she was overwhelmed, and his heart convulsed. He cleared his throat. He couldn't look at her. "Why did you come here?"

            "Oh-" She paused with her mouth formed around the word, trying to get her mind around the next one. Her eyes scrutinized the floor for an answer. "I knew about Raoul." She paused, visibly swallowing the fresh shock she associated with his name. "His plan, I mean- he had told me himself. He didn't tell me enough so that I knew exactly when or how, but I found that out by myself. Then I followed him here, and…" She trailed off. 

            He half-smiled. She still hadn't answered his question, but that would have to satisfy him for now- Christine was looking paler by the moment. "Come. We need to get to a place where I've established a pretense of what's familiar to you. I daresay you've purged yourself of the cold and dark down here since you left, and you're not adjusting favorably to it now. I assume you've already seen the way my house has been redecorated?" he asked casually.

            "Yes, I did have to pass through there. I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking away. "As long as it's good enough for you to rest in for tonight," he said brusquely. 

            He caught a glimpse of her eyes widening before he started towards what was left of his living room. Catching up with him, she protested, "You need to be cared for until your arm is well!" She ducked her head quickly, and he knew she was blushing. "I'm not saying it should be me, but it can't be only you. You're going to be inconvenienced by not being able to use that arm."

            Her concern for him made him feel unendurably nostalgic. Whirling, he mustered his most sarcastic tone. "Please, do not feel responsible for the actions of de Chagny. His insolence is all his own; I have never encountered one _quite_ like it in all my years." He saw her flinch reflexively as he turned to face her. So _maybe_ she had not put the boy up to anything before her plan went awry, but she still believed she had reason to fear him. 

            Upon reaching the living room, he invited her to sit on the only chair that remained in its proper upright position. "Oh- no!" she exclaimed, looking suddenly startled, but more herself. "You sit down- you have to take care of your arm! I'll be back." She hurried off towards the kitchen.

            Erik uprighted another chair for Christine to use upon her return, then he abruptly collapsed into his, succumbing to his exhaustion. He suddenly was overcome with tremblings and sensations of dazed unreality. For the first time in a while, he wasn't in a horizontal position and he didn't have to imagine Christine's presence. He strained his ears for delicately muted footfalls to make sure he recognized them as Christine's, and that they weren't disappearing towards the nearest egress, never to be heard again save as echoes. _Christine was here._ He tried to steady his tremblings to spasmodic bursts as he saw Christine approaching.

Thanks for all the reviews! ; )


	7. Chapter Seven

            _Je Vous Fais Toutes Mes Excuses_

            Sorry this is so short, but I wanted to feel like I was processing something, no matter how painstakingly. I'm having writer's block, or writer's torture chamber?

Putting a candle on the floor, she sat awkwardly in the other chair, hesitantly leaning towards him brandishing the damp cloth. Sighing, feeling nostalgia cloy his mind, Erik complyingly removed his coat to reveal the spreading blood on his forearm. He had been enclosed in a grace period of shock, but the arm was starting to hurt terribly. He wasn't accustomed to physical pain. He inhaled, suspending his breath as he watched the cloth approaching his arm. He hissed, releasing all his air in the instant it took for the cloth to grate against his torn flesh. "Sorry," murmured Christine, furtively dipping the blood-stained cloth back into the water and moving it back towards his arm before he could rearrange it to be out of cloth range. He winced, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, she was looking at him. He couldn't gauge her expression during that moment, but there was no question that she was acutely embarrassed immediately afterwards. 

Turning away while she rewet the cloth, she asked, "Did the bullet go in?"

He considered. "If it did, it's not terribly deep." 

Christine thrust the candle towards his arm. He instinctively and abruptly moved it away from the approaching flame. Christine was startled by the previously languid Erik and she almost did manage to burn herself when she reacted reflexively, before she recovered herself and explained, "I'm only trying to see your wound." Erik gracelessly and wordlessly moved it towards her, embarrassed. She moved the candle near his arm, where they could both detect the glint of metal reflected from inside his arm. "I guess we should take it out now," Christine said with as much authority as she could muster, but he could tell her nursing skills did not extend to removing bullets. 

"I'll do it," announced Erik. Before he had time to think about it, he ungently squeezed the skin on either side of his wound together until he drew the bullet up. Then he plucked it from among the blood that had come up with it and said, "I can throw it away- unless you want it as a souvenir." 

Christine, whose piqued eyes were following the bullet's every movement, was looking greener than when she had been at the height of her amateurity and Erik saw it was time for bed. "Come, you can stay in the old room for tonight."


End file.
